Immaterial
by The Mad Hatter1
Summary: Shinzon. Before the coup of the Romulan Senate. Before the Federation. UPDATED Chp 1 to fit more with where I want to go with this, my apologies, hazard of posting a chapter at a time.
1. Reman Free City

Shinzon approached the balcony's edge hesitantly. He had never cared much for the view from here, despite its initial beauty. He moved toward the railing, and rested his palms on the marble balustrade, looking toward the dark horizon to the East. His eyes surveyed the night sky, inky black except for the faint freckling of stars, only the most persistent of which shown through. His eyes strained in the twilight to distinguish the low mountain ranges against the black nightshade, but land and sky blended into one another on a seamless canvas. Turning toward the West, the low skyline was a sea of fire, the night pushed back by the sliver of sun that perpetually wavered just below the horizon. A picturesque sunset, but one that never settled, the dusky glow eternal, the warm night stretching on for eternity without respite. 

Shinzon leaned forward over the railing, resting his elbows on the ledge and letting his eyes drift below. Dark shapes loomed beneath him. Buildings stretched toward the horizon as far as his eyes could see; industrial hovels made from material resurrected from the death traps of the dilithium mines. Material salvaged to house life, to shelter freedom, where it once had enforced slavery. The city was black, its tall spires and dilapidated roofs mere silhouettes against the bright orange backdrop. It was the witching hour, the synthetic hum of power cut for the Reman 'evening' - an enforced blackout of the city to save power.

Shinzon glared at the horizon, acknowledging the vice that flourished far below his terrace balcony. It was here that the Romulans had responded to the petition for rights for their Reman 'brothers'. They had stood at the crest of the foothills, and waved their hands across the landscape, claiming that from these mountain ranges to as far as the eye could see was Reman territory. _Free_ Reman territory. 

But it was not quite the fairytale sanctuary he had anticipated. The pioneered Free City was a city of quick riches, ill-gotten gains and fortunes lost on the tumble of dice; the domain of adventurers, swindlers, gamblers, drug runners, idle rich, dandies, tycoons, gangsters and backstreet pimps. There were two main perspectives of the Free City - from the gutters, and from the heights. But that was the past, not distant enough as far as Shinzon was concerned, but the past nonetheless. Before his arrival, the Free City had only been a storybook dream, and then a harsh and disappointing reality; now, Shinzon was rebuilding the city to reflect those dreams, transforming it into the sanctuary and the liberated capitol it was supposed to be. 

Shinzon gripped the marble balustrade, his knuckles whitening. But to some extent, it was all still an illusion. They were like cattle, their cage as enormous as the open range . . . but still a_ cage_. Unlike those born in the mines, Shinzon _knew_ freedom. Neither the lash nor the bit could sever that knowledge, no matter how deep the remembrances of slavery were cut into his skin . . . and the scars were deep. He unconsciously ran his fingers over the serrated line that split his upper lip, and felt the muscles of his face flinch involuntarily at the recollection of beatings past. _Soon, _he told himself. The Remans would have their moment; they would strike within the concealment of treaty, within the bond of friendship, within the circle of the Romulan Government itself. He would tear it all down, one day . . . soon. 

__

As soon as the fucking envoy arrived. He released the railing and turned back towards his chambers, stalking past the mute figure of the Viceroy as he moved inward. 

"Are they . ." Vkruk began.

"Not yet." Shinzon hissed. 

The Viceroy observed the retreating shoulders of his Praetor, wound with tension and stress. _But why? When they had come so far?_ They had pulled the Free City from the depths of a nightmare into a reality of prosperity. They had attained covert contracts with sympathetic neighbors which had allowed them to build their armies and to accumulate a substantial arsenal. Even now, when their ultimate goal was within their grasp, Shinzon wore a scowl that had become his singular facial expression. W_hat_ was it that vexed him? It was becoming increasingly apparent to the Viceroy that Shinzon's thoughts had become otherwise occupied as of late, for gone was the vibrant and charismatic Reman leader who had clawed his way to power; this brooding dictator had taken his place. 

Shinzon slipped his tense body into the polished throne that overlooked the room, and strummed his fingers impatiently on the armrest. The sweltering heat had slackened, but he still felt so uncomfortable. If only propriety allowed him to be in something other than the Reman battle uniform . . . but it did not. He still had guests to receive this evening. 

"The envoy has arrived." Vkruk announced, and stepped back into the shadows. 

The entire chamber was dimly lit, the torches only boring faint halos of light into the surrounding black. Shinzon glared into the distance at the doors he knew were there, but his human eyes were as yet unadjusted to the lighting levels that the Remans preferred, which lingered somewhere between darkness and barely an ember. He motioned his hand to indicate the opening of the doors, and the great ironwork portcullis swung open, the Romulan envoy moving up through the turreted gallery towards Shinzon's private receiving area. His eyes eagerly searched for one among the trio of commissaries, impatient to have her alone. 

"Leave us," he commanded of his advisors, "we have much to discuss." 

The Viceroys displeased look was lost in the dim, for Shinzon's eyes were fixed on Seti.

As the retreating advisors bowed and made their humble obeisance, Shinzon relaxed his hands on the armrests of his chair, and watched his adversary - recently come ally. He withheld the impulse to address her until the last set of feet had exited, and the door groaned into its resting place, submerging the two remaining players into silence. Shinzon inhaled and relaxed into a more casual posture, lengthening his legs before him as he reclined. 

Seti watched the rise and fall of his chest, heaving against the brilliant armor of the Reman uniform, and the impatient rubbing of his thumb and index fingers together as he observed her from his throne. There was no doubt that he possessed a striking bearing, an air of potential unmatched by any of his predecessors; but not even the most careful mimic could emulate what years of experience and training _would_ have built. He was the great figurehead of all their plans, the fist of an enormously powerful arm, poised to strike, and there could be no weakness. 

"Well," he asked expectantly, "what news?"

"They're awaiting a rendezvous on Theo Four." She said quite simply.

Shinzon smiled, but then fought to smother the emotion.

"And what else?" he proceeded.

Seti's eyes narrowed and she paced slightly before his throne.

"What else? Is that not enough, great Praetor, to have the world at your fingertips? And yet you ask of me '_What else?_'" She purred. "What else would you have?" 

"The tone of the meeting. Are my allies still pleased with our relations?" 

"They would be more pleased if your side of the bargain were fulfilled, Praetor." 

The room grew silent, the space between them becoming somewhat icy.

"But," She resumed her soothing stroll, "they of course send their continued greetings and good will."

"And you, Seti, no doubt delivered my affections to them in return?" Shinzon growled, impatient with her verbal charade. 

"Of course." She smiled, looking abused at his lack of trust. "Don't you have any faith in me?"

"Sometimes I wonder whose side your on." He whispered. "Whose side _are_ you on?" 

Seti hesitated a moment, and then cautiously took the few steps that led to the Praetors throne. Slowly, she kneeled before him, placing delicate fingertips on his knees. With the slightest of pressure, she bid them part. Shinzon's brow furrowed slightly and he shifted his legs to allow her to slide her slender waist between, reclining further to permit her access to his lap. 

Seti looked into his dark, intelligent human eyes. 

"The side I'm always on," she breathed, "mine." 

"And how do I know that you deliver my messages intact, if I'm not allowed to attend the meetings myself." He hissed.

Seti pushed back from his chest, appearing abashed at his lack of confidence in her.

"Praetor," she searched his eyes, adopting a pleading tone, "it is only in your best interest. We wouldn't want your Romulan allies – as trustworthy and sincere as they are - to grow overly eager and try to slit your throat, now would we?" 

Seti subtly traced the creases in the fabric of his iridescent cloak and Shinzons gaze followed her hands. As her fingers rose to the opening of his collar at his throat, he caught her wrists and held them. 

"Or maybe you just use the opportunity to further your own interests." He growled. 

"Where do you hear such lies?" she laughed bitterly.

Shinzon's gaze wavered hesitantly toward the dark corners of the room around them; a gesture too minute for human eyes to have seen, but her keen dark orbs perceived everything in his reaction. 

"You don't have to tell me," She sighed, "I already know the answer." 

She held his cold gaze for a moment, looking convincingly persecuted, and then attempted to remove herself from his presence. She pushed away from his armored chest and turned her face away from his, but his hands tightened around her wrists, binding her to him. 

__

So she did still hold clout? She smiled inwardly at her triumph and relaxed against him, gauging his disposition towards her and trying to predict his thoughts. The human male ego was a delicate thing; it had to be stroked before it could be molded to fit her needs. Slowly, cautiously, she ran her hands over his chest and shoulders - grasping the headrest behind him and pulling her body forward - diminishing the distance between their faces to mere inches. 

Shinzon allowed her to linger in his lap, enjoying the sensation of her against him. He let his head fall back, increasing the space between them, enticing her to move closer. 

Seti leaned forward.

"Always remember, Praetor," She whispered against his lips, "you chose me . . not the other way around." 

The movement of her mouth brushed her lips against his, and Shinzon inhaled sharply, his hands leaving the arms of the chair. Slowly, delicately, he traced his sensitive fingertips over the sheer fabric of her gown. It amused him to watch her try to seduce him. He looked into her almost human features, her hair attractively covering her secret, and a blade of resentment ran through him. He didn't like being manipulated – and worse – he didn't like to allow her to believe she was successfully manipulating _him_.

"Your Romulan." He sneered. "Why are you trying to be human?"

Seti's head cocked at an inquisitive angle, and the corners of her generous mouth turned up slightly.

"I'm as much a Romulan as you are Reman," she retorted, "why are _you_ trying to be human?"

The words tasted sour, but her response only elicited the slightest raise of his eyebrow. True, her parentage was quite dominantly human. Only the slightest trace of her Romulan heritage was apparent on her smooth brow; the eyebrows elongated attractively, her bangs covering the slight rippling just beneath the hairline. 

"I," she recovered her silky tones, "am a woman." 

His hands were keenly aware of it as they traced over the curves of her body.

"Yes," he admitted, "you are that." And he tipped his head to meet her lips.

Seti moved forward to take what was offered, but with a sudden benevolence, Shinzon reached for her chin, forcing her eyes to make contact with his. He wanted so many things from her at this moment, the least of which was a discussion on allegiance. 

"If you betray me I'll kill you." He breathed. 

It was sobering, for she had every intention of betraying him. But her face remained placid, a slight smile flickering the corners of her mouth. 

__

So easily undone, weren't we? 


	2. In the Serpents Lair

Seti's eyes flickered and opened. She lay face down on the pillow, and gazed over the plain of silky sheets that rippled and swirled over the bed's surface before plummeting abruptly on the opposite side. She moved her hand from under the refuge of the satin sheets and smoothed it over the cloth, searching. Her brow furrowed and she sat up, gathering the blankets around her as she surveyed the room. 

The climate was completely unchanged since the night before; the torches still burned in their ornate perches, the slowly oscillating fan still coerced the reluctant air, and the faint glow of the horizon continued to feebly reflect off the polished stone floor. _How she longed for daylight_. At first the blazing sunset had seemed so beautiful - like a first rainfall - but it had since become tedious and depressing; to always look up at the same sky, no matter the hour, month, or even year. She closed her eyes and huddled within the blankets, blocking out the half glow that permeated the room. Her mind touched on incidents from the past, on conversations long ago uttered, on last night. . .

When she opened her eyes, reality had flooded back. She glanced around the dim room once, and it appeared she was alone. The Praetor slept erratically at best, and so it was not unusual that he should be gone. However, she did not want to be present should his Viceroy or any other member of his council decide to pay him an early morning visit. She pulled the sheets about her, modest even in seclusion, and reached for her robe which was thrown carelessly over the back of a nearby chair. She pulled it over her head, and let the coverlets drop to the floor, stepping out of them and moving around the bed. She searched for her sandals and made a quick perusal of the room. It was stark and cold despite the humidity. All polished surfaces, and exact lines -coal gray and pewter silver - the only furnishings were the immense bed and the diaphanous curtains that billowed slightly in the breeze. 

For a moment she paused in the silence of the immense room, the Praetors private suite. It was not lost on her that no other individuals, except for a few privileged counselors and the Viceroy himself, had ever been invited into this private sanctuary. She swallowed and turned towards the great double doors that led from Shinzon's room, emerging into the dim hallway and making her way down the corridor. 

There were no guards at this hour, but the great pillars that lined her path seemed like ancient sentinels, sober stone watchmen that never slept. They were featureless and without animated character, but their cold stone fronts seemed to look on her accusingly as she walked amongst them.

Seti stopped abruptly. She had heard something. 

She squinted in the dim light, but the torches burning at intervals the length of the hall were useless. _Damn their Reman eyes_. Every surface was polished to a mirror shine, and they caught the reflection of every flicker, every mischievous shadow, even her own reflection. It wasn't a footstep she had heard, but rather the crush of some minute grain of sand under foot. She swallowed and moved away from the walls, continuing down the center of the hallway. 

With one quick swoop, it kicked her legs out from under her and she fell forward onto the floor. The impact made her vision blacken, and strong hands grasped her neck and hauled her up, shoving her toward the wall. She collided with the stone face first, the force of her assailant's momentum pinning her from behind. Damp Reman hands wrapped around her mouth to stifle any protest, and she anticipated a blade in her side or to her throat. Instead, she was whipped around to face him, his menacing height towering over her.

"Your not as vigilant as you used to be." The Reman smiled and removed his clawed hand.

__

Remans didn't smile. Seti's brow furrowed and she opened her mouth to speak but the palm of his hand smacked her across the face. For a moment, her head hung to the side where his blow had sent it, the cheek numb and abraded by the rough texture of his skin. She began to tremble as rage and adrenaline coursed through her. 

"Did that get you hot?" He breathed into her ear. 

Seti flinched and tried to move away from him, but their proximity was too close.

"Oh," He quipped in mock apology, "you don't prefer this face? How about this one?" 

In the fraction of an instant, his features rippled and smoothed. Soft, supple human flesh replacing the jagged ridges of former Reman skin; cold eyes softened into intriguing hazel orbs; and the enormous height and build of the Reman withered away to reveal the smaller human frame. For a moment, Seti stared at a flawless duplication of Shinzon, and a far more appealing smile spread across the familiar features. 

"My talents are not without value." He mused. "Just think, you would never know if it were him you were with . . or me?" He chuckled lecherously. 

Seti tried to shake his grasp, but he pressed her firmly against the wall with his body, sliding his cheek along hers, running his human fingers through her hair. He grasped at it, enjoying the silky feel, and pulled slightly to tilt her head back and expose her neck. 

As always, with each new form that the Changeling slipped into, came an array of new sensations. Sight, sound, touch; within the skin of whatever creature he chose, these certain senses were heightened, or dulled, depending on the species. Puc imagined he had never felt the sensation of touch quite so acutely as he was experiencing it now, with these human hands.

"I can empathize with the human preoccupation for physical contact." He marveled, hearing Shinzon's honeyed voice as his own. 

He had never cared for human beings as a species. Their physical bodies were inferior in comparison to other races, and their emotionally consumed minds - motivated by ego, ambition, and _love_ - did little to rank them as overly intelligent. He had never held any desire to morph into one, and made it his personal objective never to do so unless necessity dictated. But on this occasion, he found pure joy in the exercise. It was reward enough to see Seti _so_ infuriated. It amused him to get under the skin, and what he really wanted was to get under _her_ skin. 

"I can honestly say I don't blame you." The counterfeit whispered.

"Blame me?" Seti hissed.

"For your . . how shall I say? Extra curricular activities." He goaded. "Your dedication to the job is most impressive. Working late hours, going above and _beyond_ the call of duty."

Seti summoned all her strength and shoved him away, restoring a tolerable distance between them. The Changeling merely smiled amusedly and reclined against the stone wall of the passageway.

"I think your more attached to him than you let on." Puc smiled coyly. 

His eyes creased in enjoyment; eyes that were _not_ Shinzon's, despite everything else. Seti would remember those eyes. 

"Have I not delivered everything that you have asked for?" Seti asked impatiently.

"Yes." Puc replied simply.

"And was everything satisfactory as I said it would be?"

"Of course." He acquiesced. 

"Then fuck off." 

"Tsk, tsk, Seti. Your vehemence is wasted on me." The Changeling, emulating Shinzon's posture, clasped his hands behind his back and moved closer. 

Seti was in no mood for Puc's manipulations, not whilst they stood at the heart of the Reman stronghold for any pair of ears to overhear. She turned her back and began to walk away.

"But there is still the issue of the Thalaron." Puc goaded in Shinzon's low tones. 

Seti clenched her jaw and turned towards him.

"Do not attempt to lay your responsibilities on me." She replied acidly. "He will part with the Thalaron once he receives his ship, at the rendezvous on Theo Four."

"And what if I told you he'll be receiving it tomorrow?" Puc breathed conspiratorially.

Seti stared at him for a beat, contemplating the immensity of such simply uttered words. 

"And after the exchange?" She questioned, glancing at him. 

"You mean after we take the Thalaron?" Puc countered uninterestedly. 

"He'll be dealt with."

The words turned Seti's stomach unexpectedly.

"So, I suppose that's it for me then? I simply tell him the ship is complete . . and walk away?" 

"Precisely." Puc smirked. 

Seti continued to stare at Puc for a moment, and then slowly, seductively, she advanced towards him. She pressed her body close to his and ran her fingers over the brilliant Reman uniform that was Shinzon's, grasping at the exaggerated shoulders and pulling him closer so that he could hear what she had to say.

"Then there is just one . . more . . thing." She tipped her face up to his, and brushed her lips against his chin. Puc's brow registered a pleasant surprise, and a slow smile spread across his face.

Seti smiled too, then grasped his lapels and yanked, at the same time bringing her knee up between his thighs. If Puc had been in the guise of another species, perhaps it might not have made the slightest bit of difference. But in Shinzon's body, a human male, this was a very painful punctuation to her sentence indeed. Puc gasped and dropped to his knees, his figure instantly rippling and morphing back to that of the Reman in an attempt to stem the flow of pain that ran into his stomach and seemed to rip his guts out.

Seti turned her back and wiped her hands of him.

"Did _that_ get _you_ hot?" She retorted over her shoulder.

Puc rolled away and limped down the hall, the retreat of his steps just beginning to fade as Seti rounded the corner. A small, triumphant smile had lit her face as she had heard the anguished sobs of a retreating Puc, but it immediately vanished when she came face to face with the Viceroy. 

Seti stopped short, the smile dying on her lips.

"Good evening, Viceroy." She bowed stiffly and straightened, agitated that he now barred her path.

The Viceroy wasn't looking at her, his eyes were in the distance, the shuffling footsteps of the Changeling not lost on his keen Reman ears. His eyes flicked to the woman before him. 

"Who was that?" He snarled. 

"A Reman." Seti replied evenly. "One of your guards." 

She clenched her jaw and looked at him indignantly, waiting patiently for the cross-examination, the accusation; but none came. Hesitantly, for his silence seemed more lethal than any words he might use, she moved around him and continued down the hall. 

A foolish thought came unbidden, and Seti stopped abruptly, turning to face the Viceroy who had continued to linger in the hall.

"If the interest of your nation lies in diplomacy," Seti addressed him, "you might start by teaching your guards some manners." She paused, "Just a thought." She ended flatly.

There was no reply - not even the slightest flicker of acknowledgement from the Viceroy - and Seti left him in the hall with his thoughts. He stood for a moment, listening to the pad of her retreating footsteps behind him, not shifting his eyes from where the denounced 'guard' had disappeared. Then he stirred, silent except for the clicking of his staff against the stone as he walked in the direction from which Seti had just come; towards Shinzon's chambers. 


End file.
